


The Drop Off

by Ukthxbye



Series: Don't Complicate It [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Difficult Decisions, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Language, Light Angst, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Plot Twists, Protective Greg, Protective Mycroft, Surveillance, Texting, here's the thing, is it feelings?, they got themselves in a right mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 03:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ukthxbye/pseuds/Ukthxbye
Summary: Greg gets another visit from Mycroft. But now the stakes are higher.





	The Drop Off

Buzz. Buzz buzz.

Greg Lestrade's finger twitched at the keys. _ Why is she texting now? Surely someone needs to be slapped or something like that.  _ He snickered at the thought and finished his sentence on the report before snatching up his phone and leaning back in his chair.

** _Bored, DI. Want to come entertain me on your lunch break?-BD_ **

** _Tempting but I've got work to do. - DI_ **

** _Such a shame. Had a cancelled appointment. Would love the company-BD_ **

** _Last night wasn't enough?-DI_ **

** _You tell me-BD _ **

He sucked in a hard breath and rubbed his neck. She shouldn't affect him, he's trained to resist such advances if he wanted but he is damned every time she speaks. He couldn't decide if it delighted or infuriated him. He could, should, needed to leave this be. Now and perhaps, from now on. 

He text her back instead.

** _What if I told you it was?-DI_ **

A pause. Three breaths he counted waiting for the dots to indicate she's responding.

He tossed the phone on his desk. She's waiting. A dramatic pause in text.

He glanced. Snatching it up again, the text popped up

** _You know the rules.-BD_ **

As he expected. 

He could say it. Text is awfully impersonal but... He started to type and erased it. He kicked himself. She'd take his hesitation and play with it.

** _Well, look at that. Someone desperate for my attention after all. We'll continue this later unless you have something you need to say now?-BD_ **

** _Not yet. Back to business I would say. Dinner?-DI_ **

His eyes shot up from the phone in time to see Mycroft Holmes and shoved his phone in pocket as the office door opened.

Greg stood as Mycroft closed the door quietly and nearly jumped when his phone buzzed against his keys breaking the silence. Grimacing, he grabbed it out of his pocket as Mycroft reached the desk. 

"Hello Detective Inspector. If you would please refrain from texting Miss Adler of our meeting—"

Greg huffed, shoving the phone in another pocket, "Good morning to you as well. Obviously, not gonna text her." 

He motioned for Mycroft to sit and slammed down in his own chair. "Got a lot of work to do so you got something quick or can it wait? Sherlock related perhaps?" He said it snide and the curl of Mycroft's lips advised the intention didn't go unnoticed.

"A case in fact, one you will find fascinating I'm sure."

"Since when did you start assigning?" Greg smiled leaning back in his chair.    
  


"Since it involved Moriarity."

Greg sat upright, swallowed and shook his head, "You're kidding me."

"Decidedly not."

Greg caught the tinge of concern in Mycroft's voice and it increased his unease. 

"But he's…" Greg whispered his thought out loud.    
  


"Dead? Yes quite so." A crooked eyebrow to Greg's shocked face. 

"But..."

"Here I am speaking his name once again," Mycroft sighed deep with irritation. "Insanity increases and influences within itself it appears."

"But I thought... Sherlock… wait. Your sister's--"

"Not involved. And we did. Dismantled thoroughly And yet... well, someone hid away the instructions for someone else. Or at least that is what current evidence shows." Mycroft reached into his leather briefcase and handed Greg a folder. "However it's not as desperate as it would seem. It's amateur hour, Detective Inspector."

Greg flipped through the pages and paused when Irene's photo fell into view. Blonde hair and he shut his eyes tight. It was current.

"There's been contact though the nature of it is still a mystery."

Mycrft paused and Greg glanced up but back at the folder. 

Mycroft cleared his throat, " But my concern lies in this. The evidence of this threat solidifies and appears to be more skilled. As if they have assistance. And she is the consummate professional."

Greg's brow furrowed, but he had no retort. Every doubt could consume his thoughts later he reminded himself. But he needed more information.

"You got any evidence of her even—" he waved his hand and Mycroft's smile told him he did. 

"This image here…" he pinched and pulled out a photo from his briefcase and let it go to land in front of Greg, "Shows her outside her flat with Eric Hartford."

Greg lifted the photo, glanced and tossed it back. He sniffed and smiled "Name doesn't ring any bells." The man in the photo appeared the typical burly but likely dumb as a rock. Obviously muscle to keep her safe. 

"Petty crimes mostly. Doubt he would be in the scope of your division. However…"

"However what?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes and huffed, "It does show association."

"Every bouncer and bodyguard in this town has a record sheet long as my arm." he snickered but it caught in his throat as he knew it was a lie.

Mycroft frowned, "The club where you met her. That you did a stake out in, correct?"

"Good cheap beers and nice billiards tables" One in particular they started this affair on, unable to keep their hands and lips off each other. 

"Yes…" Mycroft drawled it out with a sneer, " The owners have, shall we say, dubious connections." 

Greg stared, rubbing his thumb absently at his bottom lip and shrugged.

"It shows… pattern? " The incredulous expression on Mycroft's face amused Greg, though he surmised it wasn't something to keep pressing. "You can see patterns can you not?

"Built a career on it."

"Which could be ended."

_ There's the threat, _ Greg mused.

Both men stared at the other but Greg relented first.

"Find out. This is flimsy. Something real that would stand in a court of law if you want my attention," Greg closed the folder and shoved it back across the desk. " Whatever you find out, let me know. And I'll assist any way I can."

"We should leave that to less compromised—"

Greg slammed his hand down, "Dammit! I'm your best inside man for this." 

Mycroft closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. 

Greg sighed, "She trusts me… I think?"

"Trust with Miss Adler is a signed contract. And you?" 

"I expect certain things from her."

"Again I—"

Waving his hand, Greg stopped him."No. I expect her to run away from the conversation whether she is the perpetrator or the victim. Knowing she is hiding something does nothing for me. That's where you come in. You'll find out. We can talk about if I'm fool after there is evidence. 

"There is CCTV footage from behind a restaurant that—"   
  


"I wouldn't mind a copy of?" Greg grinned. 

"It's like dealing with bloody teenagers. No, once again you don't get the footage. But take it as proof enough."

Greg shrugged, "Of what?"

"That you are under surveillance."

"Is that a threat?" Greg pressed. 

"Friendly advice."

A nod and Greg stood again to stare out the window. 

Mycroft continued, "We suspect, whether she is a victim or an accomplice, she will be meeting very soon with our Moriarty copycat."

"Doesn't seem safe. Could explain… yeah."

"It's not safe to ignore them. Has she indicated--"

"She was scared the other night, came over and stayed for breakfast."

"How romantic," Mycroft quipped. 

Greg shook his head as he turned and sat, " No, she was proper scared. I don't think your gonna find her anything but the victim here."

"I've seen her frightened before, Detective inspector. Her fear is not an indicator of innocence and in that case, rather an admittance of guilt."

Greg wasn't sure why he kept selective memory headed into this, well, whatever they were. He knew Sherlock saved her life because she slipped up with important information. But he needed Mycroft out of his office to apply the mental energy needed. 

"Well I'll be on the lookout for behavior… or, " he paused the look on Mycroft's face too distinct to ignore." You've got something else in mind?"

Mycroft slid a small metal case across the desk. Greg stared, a gulp slow as a lump grew and tightened but he couldn't bring it up or down.

"Replace her phone battery with this. In fact it matches her battery and works the same."

"It's a bug."

"In simplistic terms, yes."

Greg coughed and huffed as he stood and paced by the window.

"No."

"Pardon?"   
  


"It's too risky. She's smart, she'll…" he shrugged, glancing at the case and then back to his shoes as he folded his arms tight to his chest.    
  


"Suspect nothing as you are, as you so confidently said, the inside man, am I correct?"

The grin slight but burning with anticipation. Greg read something pressing there. He suspected a brother's fear for his own played its part. 

Greg rubbed his jaw with an open hand, the stubble rough, like a record scratch in the quiet tense room "I…" he started but his words caught as he sat down hard in his chair again.

"Admit then—"

"I'll do it." He saw no way out of it. His hands tied metaphorically now and Mycroft knew it. 

Mycroft sighed, relief obvious to Greg and nodded. "Thank you"

"I don't want to do any of this. And I know… wish, I don't know. Fuck it… It is what it is." His chest ached, and a heaviness sat on his neck.

Mycroft rose slowly, closing his leather case. "There are many elements in play. We must all play our parts."

"Queen and country, eh?" 

Mycroft sighed with a nod. 

Greg sighed rubbing his eyes, "Let me know… you know.'

"You'll receive the result." Mycroft cleared his throat standing adjusting his waistcoat and held his hand out. Greg took it and shook, giving one more empty smile.

Mycroft closed the door softly behind him. Greg shot up, snatching the case and tossed it in a safe, slamming its door. 

"God… dammit," he gritted as he paced rubbing his face and chest. 

The mission clear but everything else mud.

She would suss it out. She had to. No way she trusted him that much.  _ Or does she? _

All the evidence thin as tissue paper and yet couldn't be ignored. Why did she come to him at night now? And spend more time in his bed? Alibi? 

A tug in his chest as his eyes glanced over at the safe. Why did he hesitate? He knew what she was before, what she still might be. Could be using him, but if she needed something in his reach, she showed no signs. She left him alone at work except for texts. Dinner she talked cases if he wanted to. But it was just chat not digging for anything extra, well, that he can remember. 

His hand shot to his pocket when it vibrated.

** _Dinner it is then. And dessert at yours?-BD_ **

He recognized that code word. Dessert meant what dinner used to for others. 

** _Ignoring me now, DI? A shame. Might make other plans instead- BD_ **

He typed, paused and then finished a message back, dropping his phone on the desk before sitting in his chair with a heavy sigh. 

** _It's impossible to ignore you, Baby Doll. Dinner and dessert. See you tonight. -DI_ **

**Author's Note:**

> love to my ever patient beta and co-writer Mouse9
> 
> the next stories after this are all closely connected and within the same couple days. hopefully up soon!
> 
> playlist for this series in here: https://open.spotify.com/user/w7wjzjrs5iiu6i7mv2wtoog3w/playlist/0lrf2ciAomYYLnJAeOzjZA?si=sVlgst9qT8OV_tGl1nYzKQ


End file.
